Stories

I feel like I am in a novel lately. I don’t know if it is a sign that proves I am losing my mind or if it is a serious mental illness. I’ve started to hear voices that are narrating my life, that are connecting everything that happens in my life to the moment I am living in. The first time I realised these voices was the moment when I was in a friend’s house looking to a painting on the wall. Believe me or not the voice in my head said “when Selen looked at the embossed painting on the wall she remembered the paintings of Suna Hanım in the nursing home.” It was a genderless voice that scared me a little bit but now every time I look at something or someone I create a story.

All of these people living in these houses in the picture are real. Those people have their own stories. Stories of how they ended up in this small street in Kadıköy and maybe how they became neighbours or enemies. How that old man living in the pink apartment can go to the bakery whom he knows before he moved here and every day in 9.43am how he drinks a cup of tea. Or maybe he is a total alcoholic and the house remained to him from his mother because his father was also an alcoholic who died in the age of 45 and this man is afraid to die everyday but he is not able to leave alcohol. Because the most beautiful things in this world are also the ones most harmful aren’t they?

Numerous possibilities, endless stories… People amaze me. Stories amaze me. And now I can’t look to the things like I used to do because this voice inside me starts to create stories.